The Last Survivor
by Cherrie Rainbow
Summary: Fire and smoke. That was all that a poor little albino boy could see from his hiding place. He could barely hear the screaming of his own people being murdered by royal troops commanded by Pharaoh. Indeed, Kul Elna was being horribly massacred. A story about power, thirst for revenge, love. Who is really the enemy?


Disclamer _: I don't own yu gi oh, sadly. D_ _oing this, I don't win anything but only the satisfaction of writing._

A/N: Hey there, this story had been in my head for such a long time that feels like it won't leave me in peace until it is written. Something you should know before read is that english is not my native language so surely i know that i will need your corrections and reviews more than ever. You know, to see if it is working or not. I'm not afraid of criticism, as long as it is written with respect. All comments are really appreciated. This really is a big challenge. Thank you very much and enjoy!

Ps: I wrote this while i was listening to The Rasmus, are there anybody who also loves them too? Haha, well enjoy!

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 _Chapter Zero._

 ** _''The Last Survivor"_**

 _A fanfic story by Cherry R._

Fire and smoke. That was all that a poor little albino boy could see from his hiding place. He could barely hear the screaming of his own people being murdered by royal troops commanded by Pharaoh.

Indeed, Kul Elna was being horribly massacred. Armed forces on horses were slaughtering every life that were crossing their path. Whether they were men, women, children or elderly people, those soldiers didn't care at all. He had ran with all his might trying to scape. He had teary eyes and was heartbroken. He had just seen the death of her mother. She had defended him from the attack of a soldier who pierced her chest with his sickle-sword without mercy.

He shivered at the things that were happening right at that moment. Although he wanted to help his beloved ones, he knew he had to remain hidden in order to save his own life. It wasn't like a child of eleven years old like him would counter a soldier anyway. He was helpless and hopeless.

The boy was curled up in a crook that he had found under large rubbles of a house's ruins. He remained silent and motionless, being careful to stay unnoticed by the attackers. His heart beating furiously against his chest at the expectation of what could happen at any moment. The survival instinct kept him alert and ready for running away if he was found. His father taught him that he had to control the fear and stay calm to think straight in dangerous situations. He stayed there waiting until the noise of the horses stopped and all the screaming and weeping ceased.

The sky was still dark when he slid off from between the stones and the mud and knelt on the gritty sidewalk. A cloud of smoke was coming out of the destroyed buildings, covering the place and making him a blurred vision of his surroundings. Slowly the boy stood up and with caution began to walk along the winding roads that were formed among the wreckage of the houses.

Everything was devastated. He could hear the constant cracking of wood burning. Bodies were covering the streets and a stench was filling the place. His breath was coming in gasps with every step he took and started to feel a sharp pain in his chest, in his heart. That bloody night would be haunting him in all his nightmares for the rest of his life.

He searched desesperatly other survivors but hopelessly there was no sign of life. There was no sign of nothing of the everyday life that had filled the village just a day earlier. There was not even a village now. They were all dead.

The boy fell on his knee and covered his face with both hands. A mixture of anger and distress ran through his body making him let out a cry of fury. He had been stripped of all his life. Now he no longer had anyone, he was left alone. His vision blurred and fell into a state of shock. Those soldiers were the same ones who had killed his father a year ago. His father, after all, was the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs of thieves but there was no reason or explanation for the extermination of the entire dorp. And absolutely no reason for the death of his innocent mother and his friends. They will pay for what they did.

Then his ears captured a strange sound, like a distant hum. Startled he lifted his face and tried to stand up but it took him a big effort to keep the balance and not fall again on the ground. He wasn't injured but he was extremely exhausted physically and mentally. The boy could barely understand the facts that were running out. Without be exactly conscious of what he was doing he dragged his feet over the dirt ground following the sudden sound that had appeared. He had just made a few steps when the neighing of a horse rang in his eardrums. Instinctively, the boy threw himself to the ground trying to blend himself with the rocks and debris. He pressed his face to the earth to hear hoofbeats coming more and more closer and he felt his heart stirred within him furiously.

The night stood upon that forgotten corner of the desert as the foot of a giant crushing everything. Four black legs stood just an inch away from him. Slowly, he turned on himself to try to take a look at the black shape of the rider but he could not see anything because he was wearing a cloak. Then he knew this man wasn't a soldier because soldiers aren't supposed to wear a cloak, are they?. The horseman held up his arm and with a quick movement hit the animal with a whip, which took off running at full gallop. He waited there another moment until the horse was far enough and then stood up and run towards exactly its same direction.

It wasn't hard to follow the fresh footprints in the dirt. He didn't know what was he expecting to find by following that man but he kept running knowing he was getting close to the center of the dead village. The hum he heard before became more intense. He had to go climbing large blocks of mudbrick and dodging the buildings on fire, the smoke and darkness made it difficult to see where he was putting his feet. His mind was numb and his face expressionless. He was wearing a torn wrap-around skirt and had the chest bare showing his tanned little body which was all scraped.

A welter of sounds began to blend with the hum, and when he climbed the last big block and took a look of the center of the town his eyes widened as he could scarcely believe what he was witnessing. The center of the town used to be the main market but now instead of streets fulls of shops and stores there was a large circular space and on the center of it there was a mountain of corpses. The dead bodies of his beloved people stacked one above the other. The severe scene that was being displaying in front of his eyes was followed by the apparition of seven cloaked men. They were on their horses and around the mountain. Not far from them there were a few soldiers more standing side by side in front of dozens of wooden carts in a row that were filled with with tables of stone.

The hooded men had their eyes closed and were making a strange position of hands, putting them together, as in a prayer. A glow emerged from them and a monotone singing came from their mouths, barely articulating. As in an ancient dead language. This was a ritual. The glow appeared with more force in their hands, then they raised their arms high. A line of light drew a circle on the floor on which stood the horses. Instantly, the mountain also began to shine. Everything began to move, as a slight tremor. The floor below the pile of bodies began to crack. The seven men backed off a bit lowering one hand to take the reins. The slit began to open, like a wound in the soil. As a big mouth, it started to swallow bodies that fell down. Like a huge tomb. It was the grave of Kul Elna.

One of those masked men gave a signal to the soldiers who rode the horses that were pulling carts to start moving. The men who were doing the ritual hit their horses with the whip and went in the direction of the carts.

The boy saw the carts that were moving away from there and the thought of sneak away and follow them crossed his mind more like an instinct than like a rational thought.

Then the sand began to fill the crack covering everything until there was no trace of anything. Suddenly everything became too quiet. The boy was dumbfounded, unable to understand or assimilate what he had just seen. It was too much.

He got off the wall with a jump and headed to where the men were before. His knees collapsed on the floor and beat his fists against the ground in anguish and frustration. All he wanted was to die right then and there. He was the last survivor.

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
